Review: "Canada" by Richard Ford

I have to give Richard Ford a lot of credit for writing Canada, his latest novel. It could not be more different than the Frank Bascombe novels that he is known for. Gone are the suburban enclaves hiding Yates-like desperation. That motif is replaced by a more naturalistic setting in the harsh, yet beautifully so, land that connects America to Canada in the far north. It reminded me a lot of the setting of David Wroblewski’s wonderful novel, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle. Yet this novel is not nearly as interesting, and that becomes its greatest downfall. This is a very slow, probably one of the slowest I have ever read (although nothing surpasses Peter Nadas’ navel gazing snooze fest Parallel Stories, a book I am not sure I will ever go back to again). And this book shouldn’t be slow, it involves bank robbery and murder. I expect a gritty look at this kids life with nuance, which Edgar Sawtelle was able to do. The story is told from the perspective of Dell Parsons, now an old man, who looks back on his life and the most memorable time he had, which occurred in 1960’s Montana. In breathtaking descriptions, we learn how overwhelmingly normal his family is, despite his dad selling stolen beef to Indians. So when his dad, along with his reluctant mother rob a bank, it comes as a shock. When his twin sister leaves for California, Dell is left alone, and is taken to Canada to stay with Arthur Remingler, whose violent past and lost ideals make him a toxic entity in Dell’s life. I hate to say it, but most of the action in the novel is boring, although Dell’s sense of loneliness and isolation, even after the murders happen and he reunites with his sister years later before she dies, is very palpable. I just wish the action were too. If you can tough it out through the long haul with some dry passages, you might enjoy this book.

Rating: 4/5

Review: "All Souls" by Javier Marias

It took me awhile to find my way to a book by Javier Marias, but I finally did, and I am a better reader for it. I had heard rumblings about this writer for the past few years, actually having owned a copy of his novel A Heart So White at one point, which went missing a while ago (yet I got a new copy recently). It wasn’t until his large, multi-volume work Your Face Tomorrow appeared near the end of the second edition of the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die book that I decided to look more intensively in to him. Having made room in one bookcase, and ordering all three volumes of Your Face Tomorrow, I decided to check out an early, shorter work of his. And if the Your Face Tomorrow sag is anything like this novel, All Souls, it should be a grand reading experience I cannot wait for. Although it is a campus novel, which usually reek of sub-conscious pomposity, the real revelation here was how much fun this book was to read. In its compact 210 page length, there is rarely a dull moment, and the best, juiciest scenes remind me of the smaller, darker scenes in Bolano’s 2666 and The Savage Detectives, possessing both the stylistic trickery and intrigue of those two masterworks, yet on a smaller level. And he actually becomes a bit funnier than Bolano, offering a little levity to the proceedings, even when things get very serious and introspective. This is a campus novel, so the plot deals directly with a professor from Spain spending a two years teaching at Oxford University. This unnamed narrator is truly an outsider, experiencing all levels of backstabbing, one-upsmanship and glad-handing that comes with being a professor at one of the world’s most famous universities. He falls in love with Clare, a married teacher who has a tragic backstory that prevents her from making a commitment with any of the man in her life. While this relationship is at the heart of the story, it being the driving force behind many of the narrators actions, and ultimately being the one thing he hinges all his happiness on, the joy I got from this novel comes from the little scenes the narrator fins himself in, as well as the bizarre cast of characters he meets in this strange land. From the opening scene involving a groundskeeper whose memory lapses into the past focus on certain years, and you can tell which one by the professor he mistakes someone for, to the narrators meeting with a group of overweight women, affectionately called “fat tarts”, that ends with quite an introspective musing on oral sex, each event shows the separation he feels by being in an unfamiliar landscape like Oxford. This really resonated with now that I am out of college, a place I never really felt at home at. Marias gives us a very fun look at the kinds of hypocrisy that exists on a college campus, especially one focusing on liberal arts, where even the heartiest compliment can be neatly veiled example of a self-serving gesture. Even if you don’t agree with that, you should read this fun, over the top book that promises to put a smile on your face.

Rating: 5/5

Review: "The Maid's Version" by Daniel Woodrell.

(Note: Sorry about the photo. I checked it out from work, and they keep the dust jacket, so I snapped this picture of another copy we have. It should suffice.)

I am very torn about my feelings toward Daniel Woodrell. I wholeheartedly agree with the consensus of his small fan base that he is one of America’s undiscovered gems, and his prose style is second to none, accomplishing the feat of being both polished and humble in its execution. But I find his stories to be very weak in narrative, like I am looking at fancified skeleton of an incomplete building, to crib a quote from Hemingway. The first novel I read of his, The Death of Sweet Mister, may be in my top ten, and still has the power to devastate even when I am just reminiscing about it. Luckily, his first novel since Winter’s Bone, The Maid’s Version is a close second to Sweet Mister, even more so than Woe To Live On. But it still lacks a cohesive and easy-to-follow story arc, which is an important aspect to my enjoying a novel. The plot tells of a dance hall explosion that happened in 1929 in West Table, Missouri. The facts of the case are skewed, cause we are told it by a man who heard it from his strange grandma, whose sister died in the explosion that killed 42 people. They never learned who did, whether it was mobsters, zealots, or just bad luck. But we do see many versions of what might have happened, like a crazed preacher who was a main suspect who meets a brutal end, or a notorious bank robber who isn’t so notorious who might have a clue as to what might have happened. It is a little hard to follow, since Woodrell loves to decorate with his words, leaving little else as a driving force that can elevate the story. But it is damned pretty to look at, and if that is enough for you to warrant a reading, check out this relatively slim book, or any of Woodrell’s other offerings.

Rating: 4/5

Review: "Fellow Mortals" by Dennis Mahoney

It is a bit disappointing when a book you just wanted to like ends up being kind of a dud. While my feelings toward it are mostly innocuous, Fellow Mortals by Dennis Mahoney fails to deliver the emotional resonance that is implied by its premise. There are shades of quality in this novel, enough so to put Mahoney on my radar, but there are too many missed opportunities in the layout and execution, that I am not putting him to high on my radar. The premise itself is still very good, as is promised by the synopsis on the back, which was one of two things that led to this impulse buy, the other being it is published by the FSG Originals imprint, the same one that put out both of Frank bill’s books. It just never really gains the wings it should have when emotions boil over into physical actions, making them seem rather toned down in order for neater prose. The premise, as I said is really good; a fire, inadvertently caused by mailman Henry Cooper and a mis-thrown cigar match, devastated a small suburban neighborhood after it claims the life of one of it’s residents, a young wife. The reactions differ; Henry is guilt ridden, and it forces him to make rash decisions that harm his shaky marriage to Ava. Billy, a man also in a floundering marriage, wants revenge at any cost. And Sam Baily, who lost his wife in the fire, has retreated to the woods to carve out a life, literally, after his loss. This novel does have a hearty theme about the ways in which we cause harm to others when we can’t let things go, but it is just too neat and tidy in the way it is written, so much so that when a shattering death occurs, I totally missed it because I was kind of bored, and had to go back and read it again. Even the third part of the book, which contains the most lasting image of the novel, fails to deliver the emotional gut-punch. While it left me feeling incomplete, you might think differently.

Rating: 3/5

Review: "Let the Games Begin" by Niccolo Ammaniti

While it is a major departure for what he is mainly known for, Niccolo Ammaniti’s new translated novel, Let the Games Begin, and is no less wonderful and stunning. Having said that, I expect people who know and love him for books like I’m Not Scared and I’ll Steal You Away to dislike this book, or put it much farther down on their list of favorites. It fits into my category of “personal favorites”; books that I like, but won’t defend too much if someone doesn’t agree with me due to the book’s glaring problems that I choose to ignore for its more favorable attributes. Books like Murakami’s Hardboiled Wonderland and the End of the World and Richard Russo’s Mohawk are both books I really liked but was by no means perfect. Let the Games Begin is really one of those novels. Even if you don’t like it because of it, he does something here completely different and unexpected with the direction of the story. If I can make a presumed assumption, this book is really Ammaniti’s attempt at a comedy, although a rather black one, since he does utilize many of the traits he is known for, such as multiple storylines colliding with each other through violence and how small betrayals can cause big rifts in the human heart. There is a little more action in this book than even his most intense thrillers, but if you can find the meaning behind the action, you might be in a similar camp as I when you finish this book. The novel’s central piece concerns a lavish, hysterically over the top gala in a park in Italy thrown by an eccentric millionaire, complete with three different kinds of safari hunts. Into this asinine (in a good way) situation come two very different groups. One is the writer Fabrizo Ciba, a famous author whose case of writer’s block is not helped by his endless pursuit of women and booze. He comes to the party, and falls in love at first sight with the famous singer Larita, whom he sees as an intellectual, as well as physical match to be his mate for life. The other story thread might stop that from happening, which centers on a group of halfwit Satanists who plan on executing the singer in the crowded venue to obtain immortality, lead by the long-suffering Saverio, whose relationship with his wife being more scary than his satanic plans. They enter the party under disguise, and somehow knock out all the power letting loose all the wild animals, as well as a few nefarious entities that are a little too hard to believe. It really is an absurd turn of events once the bodies start flying toward the last 50 or so pages, but you just have to give yourself over for the ride completely. Once everything dies down, Ammaniti leaves you with a bitter ending readers are used to, but an epilogue that lets us know that true love can survive. If you can handle the absurd with an open mind and open heart, this ride worth taking.

Rating: 5/5